


such sweet sorrow

by peterandhispirate



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - Romeo and Juliet Fusion, DEMA (Twenty One Pilots), Love at First Sight, M/M, Suicide, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-04 22:19:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17906714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterandhispirate/pseuds/peterandhispirate
Summary: The crowd blurred in front of him, a seething mass of laughter and movement, dancing and howling and bumping into each other. And between all that turmoil, Josh saw him.





	1. act one

**Author's Note:**

> most dialogue is taken directly from the play/a translation of it. 
> 
> i should make it clear that, because this fic follows the original story pretty closely, it will include multiple character deaths. please look over the tags and read carefully.

"Good morning, cousin."

Josh stirred, and lifted his head, and looked up into Mark's face, so wrought with kindness and concern. A typical expression when it came to him.

"Is the day so young?" Josh replied, blinking heavy eyes - not tired-heavy but sad-heavy.

"It's nine in the morning."

So Josh sighed in that way sensitive people do, chest deflating in the ultimate show of defeat. "Sad hours seem long."

"What sadness lengthens Joshua's hours?" Mark asked, forehead creasing.

"Not having what makes them short."

"Being in love?"

"Out."

"Of love?"

Josh toyed with a blade of grass. "I love her. She doesn't love me."

"It’s sad," said Mark with his usual sincerity. "Love seems so gentle, so kind, but in reality it's nothing of the sort."

"What’s sad is that love is supposed to be blind, but it can still make you do whatever the fuck it wants." Josh glanced from the grass to Mark's shirt, the collar wet with blood. "What happened? No, don’t tell me - I know all about it. This thing with the Bishops has a lot to do with hatred, but it has more to do with love. Love brawls, love hates, love comes from nothing. Sad happiness. Serious stupidity. Beautiful things muddled together in a big, ugly mess. Love is heavy and light, bright and dark, hot and cold, sick and healthy, asleep and awake - it’s everything except what it is! This is the love I feel, but no one loves me back. Are you laughing?"

"Not laughing," Mark sputtered through his tears. "Crying."

"Why?"

"You're just so _sad_."

"Well, this is what love does. My sadness sits heavy in my chest, and you want to add your own sadness to mine so there’s ten times more. I have too much sadness already, and now you’re going to make me sadder by feeling bad for you. Here’s what love is: it's a wise form of madness. It’s something you choke on." Josh got to his feet then, brushing the dirt from his pants. "Goodbye, Mark."

"Wait," Mark said, wiping his eyes with one hand and reaching out to him with the other. "I’ll come with you."

"I’m not myself," Josh insisted, soft and a little scared. "I’m not... here. This isn’t Joshua - he’s off somewhere else."

"Seriously, now. Who do you love?"

"I told you. A girl." Josh's voice got real quiet, like speaking above a whisper would scare away any future chances of romance. "A beautiful girl who wants nothing to do with me."

Mark's eyes softened, pitying him. "Do yourself a favor and forget about her."

"Teach me to forget," Josh pleaded, throat twisting around his own pathetic heartache. And Mark, sympathetic supporter that he was, clapped his poor friend on the shoulder and said, "Very well. Follow me."

 

;

 

"What will we say when we get there?"

"Absolutely nothing,” Mark said, not breaking his stride. “Let them judge us however they please. We’ll give them a dance and then hit the road."

The walk to Dema was a long one, but not devoid of energy. It crackled like nervous lightning among the boys, their faces soaked in the red-orange-yellow of their torches. They were passing through one of many canyons, Mark at the forefront and Josh falling into step alongside him while the others trailed at their heels, the inkblot sky stretched taut overhead.

"I'm not up for dancing,” Josh mumbled, much to the amusement of Brendon, who snorted a laugh and said, “Like hell you’re not."

“My shoes are too heavy,” Josh insisted, voice cracking clean in two. “ _I'm_ too heavy."

Brendon reached out to ruffle his hair, too-white teeth flashing in the moonlight. “C'mon, loverboy. Take Cupid’s wings and fly higher than the average man."

Josh shook his head. "His arrow has pierced me way too deep. The wound is keeping me on the ground. Love makes me sink."

"If you sink, you’re dragging love down,” Brendon pointed out all matter-of-fact. “It’s not right to drag down something as tender as love."

"Is love really that tender?” Josh asked, almost bitter. “I think it’s too rough, too rude, too rowdy, and it pricks like a thorn."

"If love plays rough with you, play rough with love. Now hand me a mask."

So Josh handed him one, watching in awe as he pulled it seamlessly over his face - so easy for him to become someone else. It was this dexterity that made a bud of envy open behind Josh's eyes.

_Must_ _be_ _nice_ , he thought. _To_ _not_ _be_ _yourself_. _Even_ _for_ _a_ _few_ _minutes_.

That's when Brendon gave him an expectant look, clearly waiting for him to put on a mask of his own, but Josh could only swallow and say, “I'll just stay back and watch."

"Don't be ridiculous."

Josh opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. “I... I had a dream last night."

"Really?” Brendon’s breath hitched in a gasp. “Me too."

"What was yours?" Josh asked, eyes rivaling the roundest of saucers - innocent in the worst way.

"My dream told me that dreamers often lie."

Hopelessly disappointed, Josh felt his shoulders sag like the beams of an abandoned house, only for Brendon to grab him by the biceps and say, "Listen here, Josh. Dreams are merely the products of an idle brain. They are nothing but bullshit, as thin as air, and less predictable than the wind."

"The wind you’re talking about is blowing us off course,” Mark piped up, semi-annoyed. “Dinner is over. We're going to be late."

Josh chewed his lower lip, heart busy building a nest in his stomach. “I’m worried we’ll get there too early. I have a feeling this party will be the start of something bad, something that will end with my own death. But whoever’s in charge of where my life’s going can steer me wherever they want.” He sucked in a breath. “Let's go."

They tread onwards until the lights of Dema burned bright enough to blind. Coming to a standstill along a ridge at the city’s edge, the rogue pack of outsiders peered down at the world they would never understand - or, in Josh’s case, _had_ understood until freedom kicked down the door.

Maybe it was stupid of him to go back. But he needed this. He needed to forget.

He put on a mask.

Experts at entering the city undetected, they slowly but surely made their way to the heart of the celebration, weaseling past the too-tall buildings and dissolving into the crowd. Josh recognized a few familiar faces - not friends, exactly, but ghosts from before. Before the door had been kicked down. Before he found solace in vultures and canyons and coyotes. Before, before, before.

And sometimes he caught glimpses of a crimson cloak, or an ivory hand, and the chills that gripped his spine made him go numb all over. But he didn’t run and hide, because this was supposed to be enjoyable. Good, boyish fun.

_You’re_ _having_ _fun_.

Yet he stood off to the side, head down and rubbing an arm with fingers that twitched. The crowd blurred in front of him, a seething mass of laughter and movement, dancing and howling and bumping into each other. And between all that turmoil, Josh saw him.

He saw eyes like coffee grounds set in a knife-sharp face. He saw teeth that tripped over one another, delightfully crooked. He saw a delicate hand spinning a delicate girl. He saw God.

Staring was rude, but Josh stared anyway, and the longer he looked the deeper he fell into Cupid's pit. At this rate, he'd fall forever.

But he didn't mind, because falling was bliss.

“He burns brighter than a torch," Josh breathed, soft and entirely to himself. "He’s too good for this world - too beautiful to die and be buried.”

The boy with the crooked teeth threw his head back in a laugh, and Josh nearly fell to his knees to worship the sound of it. If only he wasn't fixed to the spot, insides clogged with love so sweet and heavy that he could hardly move. All he could manage was to open his mouth and whisper, "Did my heart ever love anyone before this? My eyes were liars, then, because I never saw true beauty ‘til tonight.”

He needed to get closer. Close enough to breathe the boy's air. And like some kind of tragic miracle, one of the Bishops interrupted the party so he could start a speech, or a toast, or whatever would make the citizens believe he was their dearest friend.

This was his chance.

Weaving past captivated statues that paid him no mind, he moved like a dog following the most irresistible trail in the world. But he wasn’t tracking a fox, or a pheasant, or a raccoon - no, he was after love. And love was trickier than a fox. Bolder than a pheasant. Slicker than a raccoon.

But so close. Close enough for him to reach out and kiss the stranger's palm with his fingertips, too stupid and lovedrunk to shy away when the hand's owner turned to look at him, startled but smiling. Expectant, almost. As if he had been waiting.

“Your hand is like a holy place that my hand is unworthy to visit," Josh whispered, curling their fingers together. "If you’re offended by it, my two lips are waiting here, ready to make things right.”

"You don't give your hand enough credit," Crooked Teeth whispered back, squeezing Josh's fingers while the Bishop's voice droned on and on. "You're showing me polite devotion, like the pilgrims who touch the hands of statues of saints. Holding one palm against another is like a kiss."

"Don't saints and pilgrims have lips, too?" Josh pointed out, desperate, and the stranger grinned.

"Lips for praying."

Josh pulled him out of the crowd then, escaping to some dark corner where the Bishops wouldn't find them - not for the time being, anyway. As soon as they were alone Josh yanked off his mask, let it drop to the ground, and said, "Maybe we should let lips do what hands do. I'm praying for you to kiss me. Please grant my prayer so I don't lose faith."

"Saints don't move," the boy insisted, teasing him (it was working). "Even when they grant prayers."

"Then stand still while I'm praying."

Josh kissed like a lamb: hopelessly gentle, his hands fluttering against the tender skin of the saint's neck. He smiled against Josh's mouth, reveling in its sweet harmlessness - especially when Josh pulled away and let his lower lip drag between those lovely teeth.

"Now my sin belongs to you," he said in a whisper - not because he was ashamed but because he was positively breathless with love.

The saint gave him an even look. "Who said I want your sin?"

"Give it back, then."

So he leaned forward and gave it back, his kiss so rough and clumsy compared to Josh's own, but certainly no less addictive. The fingers in Josh's hair played tug-of-war with his curls, and it stung a little, but he didn't mind. How could he? This was heaven.

"You kiss by the book," the saint laughed once he untangled himself from Josh's sweetness. Then he paused, and stiffened, and said, “Hey, Clancy.”

Naturally, Josh turned to look, and what he found was a wide-eyed teenager with a slack jaw. Just staring. And when he finally spoke, all he said was, “Nico wants to have a word with you, Tyler."

So Tyler moved away, almost apologetic but not quite; Josh started trailing after him like a lost puppy only to be stopped by Mark, who materialized out of nowhere to grab his arm.

"C'mon,” he urged. “Let’s get going. It's always best to leave when things are the most fun."

"Yeah." Josh was following Tyler with his eyes. Useless, lovesick eyes. "Fun is right."

Mark jostled him like one jostles a sleeping child, and on the fifth shake Josh budged, starting to make his way out of the city’s center only to pause again when he overheard Tyler’s voice.

"Who was that? The one who didn't dance?"

"All I know is that he's a Bandito.” The teenager with the too-round eyes. Clancy. “He'll only cause trouble."

Josh’s heart fell three stories into his stomach; he was so occupied with its descent that he barely noticed the stranger staring at him from across the way. Angry.

This person was angry with him.

Not wanting to overstay his nonexistent welcome, Josh slunk off in a hurry, disappearing into the same darkness he entered from.

He wouldn’t be gone long.


	2. act two

It was certainly unlike Josh to run off and leave his friends wandering around in the dark, calling his name like he was some sort of lost dog. But it was also unlike him to go to a party and kiss a perfect stranger.

Love, it seemed, was a quick drug.

Unfortunately for Brendon and Mark, they hadn't received the same dosage; no matter how loud they yelled, he had no intention of responding.

"He's a smart kid," Josh heard Brendon mumble from his place in the darkness. "I bet he slipped away and went home to bed."

Mark sighed, sounding painfully tired. "He ran towards the western wall. Keep calling to him, Brendon."

"Of course. I'll conjure him like I'm summoning a ghost." Brendon cupped his hands around his mouth. "Oh, Joshua! Madman! Jackass! Passionate lover! Show yourself! Speak one word and I'll be satisfied."

A window of silence. Three seconds. Four. Five. Fifteen. And all the while Josh hardly dared to breathe.

"It's no use," Mark said at last. "His love is blind, so it belongs in the dark."

Brendon snorted, saying, "If love is blind, it can't hit the target. I bet he's sitting alone somewhere, thinking about how cruel and beautiful it is. Or maybe he's contemplating the wonders of pussy."

"There's no point looking for him if he doesn't want to be found. Let's go."

Josh waited until their footfalls were swallowed up by the off-key singing of the cicadas; once he was absolutely certain they were gone, he shook his head, mumbling, "It's easy for someone to joke about scars if they've never been cut."

And he went on his way.

When he returned to Dema, it was as if the party had never taken place at all - like God had taken a fire extinguisher to the city and snuffed out all the light. The only exception was a single window, its wispy white curtains no match for the glow of the vials shining from inside.

"What's that light over there?" Josh asked no one in particular, creeping towards the third-story beacon like a moth drawn to a highly unusual flame. Then the curtains were drawn back to reveal Tyler's thoughtful face, and Josh couldn't help but cry out, "It's the east, and Tyler is the sun."

Putting his back flat against the wall, Josh looked upward and watched in awe as Tyler flung open the window and poked his fluffy head out, resting his elbows on the sill with a bone-rattling sigh.

Josh waited, listening.

"Oh, Joshua, Joshua," Tyler began, voice breaking, "why must you be what you are? Forget all about your mission and come back to the city. And if you won't, just swear you love me and I'll run away with you."

Josh's heart swelled so big that it nearly busted his ribcage; the longer Tyler spoke, the fuller it got until it threatened to smother every other organ.

"It's only your allegiance that comes between us. You'd still be yourself even if you weren't one of them." Tyler huffed then, seeming frustrated. "What is a Bandito, anyway? It isn't a hand, a foot, an arm, a face, or any other part of a man. A rose would smell just as sweet if we called it by any other name."

For the first time in his life, Josh was struggling to keep quiet, and the struggle ended with him opening his mouth to proclaim, "You can call me whatever you like, as long as I'm yours."

Eyebrows scrunching together, Tyler squinted into the darkness. "Who's out there? Eavesdropping is rude, you know."

Anything but impolite, Josh stepped boldly into the light that seeped through the open window, the artificial glow drenching his face in ivory. "I don't know how to tell you who I am," he admitted, "because my name is your enemy, and I hate it. I hate it so much. If I had it written down, I would tear the paper apart."

Tyler's curled lip softened, but the skepticism stayed heavy on his tongue. "I haven't heard you say more than fifty words, but I recognize your voice. Aren't you Joshua? And aren't you a Bandito?"

"I am neither of those things if you dislike them."

"So how did you get in here? The Bishops will be pretty pissed if they find you."

"I floated in on Cupid's wings," Josh said with a grin. "Nothing can keep love out. Not even your Bishops."

Tyler raised both eyebrows. "They could kill you."

"I'd rather die at their hands than be kept from you. Just look at me kindly, and I'll be invincible against their anger."

"I'd give anything to keep them from finding you here," Tyler said, voice clogged with tender urgency.

"The darkness will hide me," Josh insisted, because didn't it always? "And if you don't love me, let them drag me away. I'd gladly take death over a life starved of your affection."

"How did you find my bedroom window?"

Josh splayed a hand over his chest. "My heart showed me the way - the same thing that made me look for you in the first place. I'm not a sailor, but if you were across the farthest sea, I would risk everything to find you."

"If you really love me, say it truly," Tyler pleaded all in one breath. "Or if you think I'm too easy, I’ll turn my back and play hard-to-get, as long as that will make you chase after me. In truth, handsome bandit, I like you too much. It's scary."

"I swear by the sacred moon above, the same moon that guides the vultures home-"

Tyler shook his head, cutting him off. "Don’t swear by the moon. She's always changing. I don’t want you to be the same."

"Then what should I swear by?" Josh asked, eyebrows furrowing.

"Don’t swear at all. But if you have to, swear by your wonderful self. Then I’ll believe you."

"If my heart’s dear love-"

"Don't swear," Tyler interrupted, desperate. "Although you make me happier than anything, this is - well, it's too sudden. We haven’t done enough thinking. Goodnight, Joshua. Stay safe out there so we can meet again."

He started to close the window, but stopped dead when Josh called out, "Are you going to leave me so unsatisfied?"

Tyler blinked. "Unsatisfied?"

"I would be the happiest Bandito in all the world," Josh continued breathlessly, "if we made real vows of love."

That's when Tyler's entire face changed, eyebrows going up and jaw going down. Josh watched in quiet anguish as he struggled for words - the right ones -only to be cut short by someone calling his name. The Clancy kid, probably.

"Don't move," Tyler hissed before disappearing from view, leaving Josh to wallow in his own nausea. What if Tyler said no? He would be broken - shattered beyond recognition. Not even his dearest friends would be able to piece him back together, and even if they succeeded, he would be a shell. A husk. A gutted animal with his heart mounted above a fireplace.

But then Tyler reappeared like some kind of lovely ghost, poking his head out the window in a hurry. Voice lowered to a sweet hum, he said, "Just a few more words, dear Joshua, and then it’s goodnight for real. If you really want to marry me, let me know tomorrow. I’ll send someone to you, and you can pass on a message telling me the where and the when."

Josh nodded stupidly. It was all he could manage.

"Okay, then." Tyler paused, smiling one of those soft, private smiles that very few got the privilege of seeing. "Goodnight."

And he closed the window.

 

;

 

Waiting for Clancy to get his ass out of bed was pure torture. Having the patience of a kid on Christmas morning, Tyler considered waking him up on his own terms, but figured it would only piss him off. And pissed off people are a lot less likely to do favors.

Not that it was making much of a difference in the long run.

“Please don’t make me beg,” said Tyler, who had crossed into begging territory awhile ago; Clancy rolled his eyes, refusing to pity him.

“I’m not making you do _anything_. And you can’t make me risk my life for some stupid fling.”

Something akin to wildfire flashed in Tyler‘s eyes. “Is love stupid?”

“When it involves a Bandito?” Clancy raised both eyebrows. “Absolutely.”

“Stop being a cynical asshole for two seconds and _help_ _me_.”

“I’m not being cynical,” Clancy insisted, lowering his voice. “I’m worried. Terrified, even.”

“You’re always scared of something,” Tyler muttered, dismissive, but his roommate held his ground.

“Rightly so.”

“Whether it’s right or wrong, you’re the only person who can do this for me. The Bishops have me on lockdown.”

Clancy snorted. Unfortunately, there was no humor in it. “That’s what you get for trying to escape so many times.”

“I don’t need a lecture, Clancy, I need your help,” Tyler said in a snarl before letting the blade of his voice turn to feathers. “You’re a good boy. They trust you.”

“And I’m supposed to risk that trust for a Trench-dwelling vulture boy?” Clancy asked, more perplexed than pissed off. He didn’t get it. He never would. Especially not at the end.

Tyler shrugged and said, “Pretty much.”

A pause. And then, “There’s something wrong with you, Tyler.”

“So you’ll do it?”

“...I guess.”

It was incredibly rare for Tyler to throw his arms around someone, and yet there they stood in the center of the room, hugging each other like old friends.

Clancy’s embrace was a premature apology.

 

;

 

“Where the fuck is Josh? Didn’t he come home last night?”

Mark shrugged, whittling absentmindedly at a piece of wood with his pocket knife. “I don’t think so. I asked around.”

“Poor loverboy,” Brendon said with a sad shake of the head. “It’s only a matter of time before that heart of his drives him insane.”

Like a ghost summoned by a wayward whisper, the loverboy in question started making his way up the hill towards them, much to Brendon’s boyish delight.

“And here he comes,” he announced with a grin, spreading his arms in greeting. “Joshua! Thanks for ditching us last night.”

“What do you mean?” Josh asked once he reached the hilltop, eyebrows knitting together in a typical display of naïveté.

“I mean you _ditched_ _us_. Disappeared. Gave us the slip.”

“I had some really important business to take care of,” Josh insisted, praying Brendon wouldn’t notice the pink haze settling across his face. “It was so important that I had to forget all about courtesy and good manners. I’m sorry.”

“More important than me?” Brendon snorted. “I doubt it.”

“Just as important.”

“I won’t settle for _just_ _as_ ,” said Brendon, ever the ungrateful punk; Josh could only offer him a sheepish smile, saying, “You’ll have to.”

Throwing an arm around Josh’s shoulders, Brendon sighed and said, “You wound me, Joshua, but I’ll take this disrespect over all that bitching about love. That poor bleeding heart of yours makes you an idiot.”

That’s when Mark spoke up for the first time, using his knife to point at something behind them. “Look out.”

Detaching himself from Josh, Brendon spun on his heel and found himself face-to-face with a wide-eyed, tight-lipped Clancy. Josh recognized the dazed look almost immediately: this was the same kid who interrupted him and Tyler at the party.

“A lost twink,” Brendon said in a sneer. “How sad.”

Clearly out of his element, Clancy glanced frantically from Bandito to Bandito, Adam’s apple bobbing like a ship on the ocean. “Which one of you is Joshua?”

“That’s me,” Josh piped up, wincing when his voice cracked and trying his very best to ignore the looks he was getting from his friends.

He’d never hear the end of this.

“Can I talk to you?” Clancy asked, seeming relieved that he was stuck with what looked like the nicest of the three. “Alone?”

Brendon whistled. “Forward, isn’t he?”

Josh gave him a look, as if that was enough to rein him in (it wasn’t). Patience thinning, Clancy huffed and grabbed Josh by the arm, leading him down the hill until Brendon and Mark were out of earshot.

“No offense to your friend,” Clancy muttered once he let go of Josh’s bicep, “but I’ve never met someone so obnoxious in my entire life.”

Josh cracked a shy smile. “Brendon? He likes to hear himself talk. That’s all.”

“Yeah.” An eyeroll. “I can see that.”

“So why are you here?”

“Tyler told me to find you.”

Josh’s face lit up like the world’s happiest cigarette. “He did?”

“I really hope you’re not stringing him along. He’s... well.” Clancy scuffed at the dirt with his shoe, like compassion was embarrassing. “He’s a good person, and I’d hate to see him get hurt.”

Josh shook his head so passionately that it bordered on violent. “I wouldn’t dream of hurting someone so lovely. He means the world to me.”

Clancy just stood there and studied him for a second or two, like he didn’t know what to make of all that tenderness. But he seemed to figure it out in the end, because he cleared his throat and said, “Y’know, for a Bandito, you have a good heart.” Then he smiled, slow and sincere. “No wonder he wants to marry you.”

And Josh, who had convinced himself that last night was nothing more than a dream, damn near started crying. But he didn’t - refused to - because he’d already shed enough tears to last a lifetime.

“Tell him to head to the western wall this afternoon,” Josh instructed once he came back to Earth, reaching out to touch Clancy’s shoulder in a show of gratitude. “I’ll be waiting there for him.”

Clancy nodded and started to pull away, only to be stopped again by Josh’s lamb-gentle voice.

“Would you like me to walk you home?” Anything but impolite, remember? “Trench isn’t the easiest place to navigate. Even I get lost sometimes.”

“I’ll manage,” Clancy assured him, almost startled by his kindness. “Thank you, though.”

Tyler and Josh were married when the sun was looking down on them from its highest perch. They were married in some quiet pocket of bliss that went completely unnoticed by Bishops and Banditos alike. They were married with rings carved from coyote bones and silver, respectively.

They were married.

It was inevitable.


End file.
